


Homecoming

by collectingstories



Series: Connor Murphy shorts [4]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor being a brat, F/M, Fluff, but also being adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 10:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21318805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: Connor gets jealous.
Relationships: Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)/Reader
Series: Connor Murphy shorts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535135
Kudos: 40





	Homecoming

Connor let out a loud yowl, surprising you enough that you fell off the couch. The theme song to CSI continued as Connor fell back against the couch cushions, laughing at you. “Oh my god,” he squeezed his eyes shut as they teared from laughing so hard. 

“It’s not funny.” You whined, laying yourself flat on the floor, feet brushing against his as you stretched out across the carpeted basement of the Murphy household. “You scared the crap out of me Connor.”

“Sorry,” he replied, still laughing. He laid the joint he had been smoking in the ashtray on the coffee table and laid himself across the couch so he could see you, his hair hanging down as he leaned over you. “It’s a catchy tune.”

“It’s not that catchy.” You huffed. 

Connor reached his hand out, one foot going on the ground as he pulled up to a sitting position. You got yourself the rest of the way up and climbed on the couch beside him, taking the joint from the ashtray. 

“Hey, that’s mine!” He smiled, grabbing at you, “you said you didn’t want one!” 

“Yeah that was before you fucking stressed me out.” You joked, moving down the couch so you were out of his reach. 

Saturday night was the designated weekly hangout for you and Connor that had been established during the summer of sixth grade and had not changed since then. You had only ever missed two Saturdays, once because it was your grandmother’s birthday and once because Zoe had a recital. Otherwise you were always together on a Saturday night. It was always chill, watching some stupid movie or marathoning as much of a show as you possibly could. His mom would come downstairs every two hours, pretending to check the washer/dryer or claiming she needed something from the back shed as she slipped out the sliding glass door. A couple times she even sent Zoe or Larry down though Connor’s dad could’ve cared less what his son was doing so long as he wasn’t doing anything destructive. Even Cynthia had stopped trying to say something about the weed. 

Connor nabbed the joint back from you with ease, leaning back against the other side of the couch as the crime show played on. 

“Are you going to homecoming next week?” You asked, clicking the subtitles on so you could follow along better. 

“You’re joking right?” 

Three homecoming dances had been spent in Connor’s basement playing video games and watching TV. Not to mention the eighth grade formal, freshman dance, sophomore prom, and junior prom. You had zero interest in ever going to any of those stupid dances but lately your mom had been bugging you about not “missing out on the high school experience”. That and Evan had asked if you would go with him to homecoming because he wanted to go to be more social this year. You were already planning on going with him and Jared to the football game on Friday and even agreed to walk in the parade with Alana. Not something you might normally do but you were trying to let loose a little and you had a dress hanging in your closet waiting for you. The only problem was you would have to break your standing date with Connor. 

“No, seriously,” you replied, “I was thinking about going.”

“Isn’t it on a Saturday?”

“It is.” 

You watched the way Connor’s jaw tightened and his fist clenched, sure signs that he was mad, though typically those were tells directed at other people, not you. But now he was pissed at you. He placed the joint in the ashtray and grabbed his phone off the coffee table, pausing the show. Just like that all the air seemed to dissipate out of the room. 

“Connor?”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Connor said, “who’re you going with?”

“No one, I just, wanted to go.” You shrugged. 

“You just wanted to go? All the fucking sudden? How convenient.” He snapped.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal Connor, it’s just a dance. We can hang out after or something…on Sunday if you want?”

“Oh, are you sure? You might have some fucking party to go to!” He got off the couch, heading to the stairs as if he was going to leave his own basement.

“Connor.” When you called his name he turned and walked back over, the only thing separating him from you was the coffee table and you felt strangely thankful. 

“You’re a fucking shit friend you know that? You act like this is all so fucking important to you and ‘oh Connor we have to get together we never miss it’ but then you just fuck off to other plans. It’s okay to hang out with me as long as you don’t have a better fucking offer!” 

“That’s not true and you know it!” 

“Just get the fuck out of my house!” He shouted. 

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”

-

Connor didn’t speak to you for the rest of the week. Despite the multiple texts you sent him Sunday through to Friday afternoon you heard absolutely nothing from him. He avoided you in school, going out of his way not to sit by you. It was a new form of torture that you had never expected to experience. Connor had never been this mad at you before. Small arguments that were easily sorted through but never massive arguments that led to such a blatant cold shoulder. You wanted to be stubborn, to wait it out until he realized that he was the one in the wrong. He should be begging for forgiveness and groveling at your feet but the more time progressed the more you were afraid that he would never put his pride aside to admit that he was wrong. 

So on Saturday night, instead of getting dressed up to go to Homecoming with Zoe, Alana, Evan, and Jared you were at the Sheetz near your house, getting Connor’s favorite milkshake and a small bag full of candy. The Murphy house was dark aside from the living room. Cynthia was at the door almost immediately after you knocked.

“Not going to the dance tonight?” She asked, looking a little relieved to see you, obviously unaware of the blow-out that you and Connor had suffered the last time you were at their house.

“Too many people, maybe senior prom,” you replied, “is Connor home?”

“He’s in his room.”

You carried the goods up the stairs of the Murphy house hold, arriving at Connor’s closed bedroom door. You couldn’t hear anything but ever since Cynthia had gotten him those noise-cancelling headphones he never blared his music. A compromise between the two of them. When you opened the door the room was dark and as your eyes adjusted you could make out Connor laying in bed. He hadn’t moved so you suspected he had his eyes closed. 

You shut the door behind you and ran your hand along the wall, flicking the light on. “Connor?”

No answer. 

Nudging the end of the bed with your leg you tried again, “Connor?” You repeated. 

His eyes opened slowly, his face already annoyed though it changed to surprise rather quickly as he scrambled to sit up, ripping his headphones off and tossing them down on the bed. “What are you doing here?” He clicked on his phone, checking the time. 

“It’s movie night.” You shrugged, holding out the milkshake for him to take.

“Yeah but…”

“You are always my first choice Connor. I’m sorry I made you feel like that wasn’t true. But even though I’m here right now that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. You treated me like shit.”

“I was just pissed.” He replied, sipping at the shake.

“It’s not an excuse for the way you talked to me. I’m here because I love you and I needed to make sure you understood that. That you’ll always come first. But next time you talk to me like that no milkshakes and apologies okay?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Connor’s face and he nodded. “Okay.”

“CSI?” You asked, biting on your lower lip, suddenly nervous as you stood in his room coming down from the adrenaline high you’d worked up to confront him. 

“Yeah,” he stood up but before you could start walking out of the room he wrapped his arm around you shoulders and pulled you close, kissing your forehead. “I’m a little bummed you didn’t come over in your dress.”

“Don’t push your luck Murphy!”


End file.
